My Horny Housewife Harem

My Horny Housewife Harem

Part 13 of 16

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Carlos was a shy, fearful virgin when he enrolled in college. Then he met an older woman who made him a man. She also gave him some good advice: instead of looking for romance with clueless girls his age, seek out married women in sexless marriages. His horny housewife harem taught him the ways of erotic love.

All 16 chapters of this tale have been written and will be posted just as quickly as the good folks at Literotica can review them. Here in Part 13, Carlos disciplines a naughty girl.

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Monday felt fine. Normal. I woke up refreshed from a great weekend that began Friday, when I went to Rita's place and enjoyed an evening with her. We got up early Saturday so we could drive to a nearby state park and complete a 10-mile hike that took us past several beautiful waterfalls. Rita was in such a good mood she found a remote spot where she gave me a private blowjob.

We ordered a late lunch at the park's fancy lodge, drove home, and I thanked her for the blowjob by eating her pussy long enough to make her cum three times. She had a big smile on her face when I finally gave her pussy a supersized serving of hard, hot cock. I was pretty tired after all that exertion, but Rita made me get out of bed so I could take her to a club where we danced the rest of the night.

We slept late on Sunday morning before having some slow, relaxed sex. We finally dragged ourselves out of bed, and I kissed Rita goodbye before going to Mama's house. Every Sunday I drove Mama to church. Afterward, I mowed Mama's lawn and she prepared a batch of her amazing enchiladas. After dinner, we watched the latest chapter from her favorite telenovela, and then I said goodbye.

Mama is pretty happy these days. She loves the house I bought her, and she's finally free of the constant financial pressures that plagued her when she was a single mom trying to raise me alone. That's what I was thinking about that evening when I drove back to Rita's house. I do that most Sundays. She claims she sleeps better if I tuck her in first. I sleep better, too. Sex is the ultimate sleeping aid.

As I pursue therapy, this journal reminds me of how I felt as my life settled into a comfortable groove. But as I'm about to write, unexpected developments sometimes upset my calm, stable life. I'm sure my therapist will have some insights into the way this particular incident affected me.

As always, Monday began when my alarm went off at 5 a.m. Most folks sleep later than that, but I've always been an early riser. It works with my lifestyle. My employer lets me set my own hours, and I find it convenient if I start early. It lets me finish most of my work by lunchtime, when my harem girls visit me. I'll entertain them for an hour or two, and when they leave it's still early enough for me to do other things I enjoy.

Because it was Monday, I knew I'd see Ellen. We'd been having sex for years by then, and I had mixed feelings about her. She had a hot body that she maintained well with diet and exercise. Ellen was especially fond of kinky sex, and I enjoyed indulging her appetites. The only problem was that she was a terrible snob who looked down on people who weren't as rich and privileged as her.

She did a good job hiding it when we were together, but over the years she'd made enough obnoxious comments that I eventually figured out she was a queen bitch in her private life. I suspect Ellen's servants must have a tough time dealing with her.

But who cares, right? Our relationship was strictly sexual. Ellen did a great job draining my balls every Monday. As long as she kept sucking and fucking like a champ, nothing else mattered.

All that came crashing down with no warning.

Ellen looked nervous when I let her into my apartment that afternoon. "I've got some bad news," she said. "My husband is suspicious," she said. "He knows something is dodgy, and he suspects I'm having an affair."

"How did that happen?" I asked. "You've been discreet, haven't you?"

"Honestly Carlos, I've been sloppy. Too sloppy," Ellen said. "We've been getting away with our little weekly hook-ups for so long that I stopped being careful. My husband noticed a few suspicious little discrepancies. Over the weekend he let me know he suspects I've been cheating."

"That's not good," I said. "I'm sorry that happened."

"He doesn't know about you, Carlos, but he knows I'm up to something. Now he's watching me through a microscope. He says that if I want to stay married, I have to let him put a tracking app on my phone. He already scrolled through my texts and call log. Fortunately, there was nothing for him to find. But from now on, he's going to be checking my location anytime he wants. I won't be able to come over here anymore, Carlos. I'm sorry."

I wasn't happy, but I wasn't sad, either. I figured I could find a new harem girl to replace Ellen on Mondays. There was a hot little babe I'd been flirting with at the gym. Maybe I could add her to my rotation.

"That's very bad news, Ellen, but I understand you've got to protect yourself," I said. "You can't risk your marriage. I'll miss you."

"I'm so glad you said that, Carlos, because there's something else I need to tell you," she said. "I've been looking for things I could do to ease my husband's suspicions, and I've come up with something I believe will help.

"I'm going to tell him you've been stalking me, Carlos," Ellen said. "I'm going to say you've been harassing me for months, and I've been quiet about it because I hoped you would stop. When I tell him this story, he's going to insist I file a police report, and that means you'll probably be contacted by a detective sometime soon."

"Wait . . . what!? You're going to file a complaint about me with the cops!?"

"I'm afraid so, darling. I have to. It's the only thing that will make my husband think I'm not cheating."

"But it will get me in trouble!" I said. "I could be arrested! I could lose my job! You can't do that!"

"Oh, I'm sure it will work out for you, Carlos. You're a clever boy. You'll land on your feet."

Land on my feet!?

I could read between the lines. Ellen thinks my life isn't important because I'm Hispanic and my parents weren't rich bigshots. The fact that she could get me fired didn't matter to her as long as it quelled her husband's suspicions. It didn't matter if I suffered - all that mattered was that her pampered little life went on without interruption.

I was shocked, but I shouldn't have been. It confirmed everything I knew about Ellen. She thought that nobody would believe I was innocent if I was accused of wrongdoing by a rich white lady.

"I should go," Ellen said. "I'm terribly sorry about all this, Carlos. I wish you well. I've enjoyed our weekly rendezvous. I'll miss them."

Ellen got up to leave, but I told her to stop. "I need to show you something before you go," I said. "You need to see what I'm going to tell the police if they contact me."

I got my laptop and opened a file I hadn't touched for years. It contained a slide show that displayed the dirty pictures I took of Ellen during our trip to New York City. "If some cop asks if I've been stalking you, I'm going to explain that we've been having an affair for ages. And I'll show them these pictures to prove my side of the story."

I launched the slide show, and Ellen saw the first photo. It showed her naked body sprawled on the bed, covered with sucker bites. Ellen's eyes got big, she appeared to be shocked, and then she got mad.

"How dare you take nude photos of me!?" she demanded. "You had no right! I never gave you permission!"

"I must admit that I felt a little guilty at the time," I said. "I worried that taking the pictures without your consent was wrong. But I don't feel the slightest bit of guilt now. Keep watching. There are a lot more pictures you need to see."

Ellen's eyes were focused on the screen as she saw one photo after another. They showed every part of her body from every possible angle. Her tits. Ass. Face. The many love bites left behind from our session in bed. Anyone with two brain cells could tell these were pictures of a woman who'd been fucked hard and was happy about it.

The best picture was the last one - it was a larger-than-life close-up of her pussy, showing it all wet and messy, with a little dribble of cum dripping from her asshole.

"You greasy little beaner! I'll destroy you!" Ellen snarled.

There it was. That word. "Beaner." It had been a long time since I'd heard it. It confirmed every suspicion I had about Ellen.

"Calm down, bitch," I said. "I won't show these pictures to anyone if you don't force me. But the moment you give a false complaint to the cops, I'll share this file, and I'll make sure to send a copy to your husband. What will happen when he sees pictures taken of his wife after she's fucked another man? What will your friends at the country club think?"

Ellen was startled when I called her a bitch. I think she imagined that a lowly little "beaner" like me would never direct a word like that toward a rich, well-connected bigwig like her. But the wheels in her head were turning. She was slowly realizing that I could destroy her life.

Finally, she looked defeated. "Very well, Carlos. You win. I won't call the police. I'll have to figure out some other way to allay my husband's suspicions. You won't see me again."

"Not so fast," I said. "You aren't going anywhere. Do you think you can threaten to wreck my life, and I won't do anything? That's not going to happen, Ellen. You've got to make it up to me."

"This is absurd. I'm leaving," Ellen said, turning toward the door.

"SIT YOUR ASS DOWN!" I yelled. It was obvious that Ellen never imagined anyone would address her using those words and that tone. "Someone needs to teach you some manners, bitch! I've taught you most of what you know about sex. I figure I can teach you about humility."

I let Ellen digest that for a moment, then began giving her orders. "You are going to continue coming over here every Monday at noon, just like always. You've done it voluntarily for years. The only difference is you won't have a choice anymore."

"But I can't do that, Carlos! My husband said he's going to install a tracking app on my phone! If I keep coming over here, he'll know all about it!"

"I always knew you weren't very bright, bitch!" I said. "Your husband knows you go to the gym most days, right? When it's time to visit me, stop at the gym first. Put your phone in one of the lockers. Then you can come over here. If he checks your location, he'll think you're doing yoga or something. After you leave you can return to the gym, pick up your phone, and go home without arousing any suspicions. Understand?"

". . . yes. I get it. That would work," she said.

"Of course it will work!" I said. "I can't believe you couldn't think of that without help from a 'greasy beaner.' It must be a terrible burden being dumb as a box of rocks. I feel so sorry for you." I was enraged. Ellen's attempt to wreck my life brought up a lot of bad memories of every bully who slapped me around and called me a "beaner."

"I'm going to explain something, and I'm going to use very simple language so you can understand," I said, struggling to control myself.

"Things are going to change. Starting today, you are my slave. We both know how much you enjoy being ordered around like a little fucktoy. Starting today, you no longer have to pretend. You are going to do everything I tell you, or I'll burn your life to the ground. Understand!?"

Ellen looked alarmed, but she didn't speak. Things were happening too fast for her tiny little brain to process.

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND!?!?!" I shouted.

"Yes! Yes! I understand!" she said.

"Good! Now, take off your clothes! All of them! Now!" I said.

The expression on Ellen's face seemed to say that she couldn't believe what I'd said. She seemed to be frozen, unable to process what I'd said. By this time I was so angry that I slapped her face - hard. "TAKE OFF YOUR DAMN CLOTHES!!!" I shouted.

You need to know that I'd slapped Ellen before. She enjoyed role-playing games where she pretended to be an innocent little girl being preyed upon by a big, bad man. Slapping her face heightened the fantasy. But I'd never slapped her so hard, and I'd never done it when I was genuinely angry. Ellen began rushing to strip off her clothes.

When she was finally naked, I ordered her to kneel in front of me. "Unzip my pants! Take out my cock!" I said. "Do it! Now!" Her hands were shaking as she lowered my boxers to my ankles. My cock wasn't hard - yet - but I knew it would be soon.

"Suck my cock! Suck it!" I said.

She sucked my limp dick between her lips and began working to give me a boner. It took a while because my anger made it difficult for me to become aroused. But as I looked down and saw Ellen obediently following my orders, my cock gradually got hard.

I was as surprised by all this as Ellen. This whole 'master/slave' thing was just something I improvised. All I knew was that I needed to force Ellen to do dirty things, and giving me an involuntary blowjob was the nastiest thing I could think of at the moment.

I sat on my sofa and tried to enjoy what Ellen was doing. It was as strange and unexpected to me as it was to her. Degradation isn't something that typically arouses me. But Ellen was doing an unusually good job sucking my dick. Did she enjoy being treated this way? She liked it during role play; I'd never imagined she'd want to be treated like this in real life.

It was too much to think about. Instead, I tried to focus on the way it felt as she sucked me deeper and deeper into her warm, wet mouth. She used one hand to massage my balls. I hadn't asked for that. It was a little flourish she did on her own. Ellen used her other hand to stroke the part of my cock that didn't fit in her mouth.

This was turning into a first-class blowjob. It took some time, but I finally began feeling a climax building inside me. I was going to cum - soon.

This isn't enough,

I thought to myself.

I need to do more to teach Ellen a lesson.

I wasn't sure what to do, but I finally got an idea. It wasn't a very creative idea, but it was the best I could do on such short notice. At the moment I began to cum, I pulled my cock from Ellen's mouth and aimed at her face. Soon I saw big globs of white, wet goo splattering everywhere. Her cheeks. Eyes. Hair. Forehead. Even up her nose. She knew better than to turn away, so I managed to spray every drop where I wanted it.

Ellen was a mess. I grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her toward me so I could take my dick and use it like a brush, smearing cum over every exposed inch of her lovely face. She looked like a masterpiece of coerced, non-consensual sex.

What have I done?

I asked myself. The orgasm I'd just experienced was one of the best of my life. I was shocked to discover I was capable of enjoying the act of forcing a woman to blow me and giving her an involuntary facial.

I vaguely realized that I enjoyed looking at Ellen's messy face. Her makeup was runny, one eye was closed, and she looked like a picture of subjugation.

I need to get a photo of this,

I thought to myself, fetching my camera.

Ellen turned away when I aimed my camera. "Carlos! Please! Don't take my picture!" she said.

"Don't you dare turn away!" I said. "Look into the lens! Look!" She had a miserable expression on her face as I took several photos that captured this moment of surrender. Ellen was probably thinking that her husband would divorce her if he ever saw this picture, but it didn't really make a difference. She already knew I had more than enough evidence of her infidelity. One more photo didn't change anything. But I liked the idea of having the image as a trophy, so I took pictures from several angles. I particularly liked a shot that showed Ellen's whole body as she knelt on the floor, trying futilely to use her hands and arms to cover her nakedness.

I suddenly realized that Ellen looked aroused. I'd seen that expression many times. "Stand up," I said. I slipped one hand between her legs and discovered that her pussy was so wet she could have had sex with no further foreplay.

"You need to be fucked, don't you?" I asked. She just nodded her agreement. A deep blush covered her from her forehead to her nipples.

"Being a slave agrees with you," I said. "It's obvious that you like being ordered around. That's great news for you, Ellen, because I'm going to force you to do all kinds of nasty things in the months ahead.

"But not today," I said. "You're a rich, snobby, entitled bitch, and you disgust me. I don't care that you need to be fucked. Get dressed and get out. Now."

Ellen looked glum as she picked up her clothes and put them on. When she was finally finished, she looked at me and said "I need to go to the bathroom so I can wash my face."

"That's too damn bad," I said. "You've been a naughty girl, and you need to be punished. Drive home with my cum on your face. That's an order. When you get home, go look in a mirror and think about the fact that you're my slave now. I expect you to come back in exactly one week. I'll make sure I've got some surprises waiting. Now get your ass out of my apartment! Go!"

She left without argument, and I thought about what had just happened. I was shocked that Ellen threatened to file a false complaint against me, and equally shocked at my response.

Where did all this 'slave' stuff come from?

I asked myself. I know that lots of people fantasize about having sex slaves, but I'd never thought much about it.

Until that day, Ellen was just one of my harem girls who sometimes enjoyed pretending she was being forced to engage in sex without her consent. I'd indulged those fantasies for her many times. But it always felt too ridiculous to imagine having a slave in real life. Now, it seemed I "owned" Ellen.

I sat down at my computer and tried to get back to work, but it was hopeless. I was too upset to think about software applications. I finally signed off from work, then went to my kitchen and poured myself a glass of bourbon. It was much too early for a cocktail, but I needed it. My sense of agitation began to fade as I sipped my drink, and I felt almost normal by the time I finished it.

You won't be surprised to read what I decided to do. I went online and did some research on those kinky couples who like to pretend one is a master and the other is a slave. Look, I'm a nerd. Online research is what I do. Mr. Google revealed a wealth of information I didn't know. It was a topic they didn't cover in any of my sex education classes in school.

Over the next few days, I read a lot about master/slave relationships, and much of what I saw surprised me. I learned that most of the people who practice that lifestyle claim it is the most loving relationship couples can have. Seriously. The argument is that when a slave gives up their freedom, it is an act of extraordinary generosity. When a master subjugates a slave, it signifies a deep commitment to be responsible for the slave's welfare and happiness.

If that sounds like bullshit to you, I agree. I think it's just a self-serving attempt to justify a type of kinky sex that some people crave. Besides, it didn't apply to my situation. I didn't enslave Ellen because I wanted to make her happy. I wanted to teach her some humility and punish her for trying to ruin my life. She wasn't being generous. She was selfishly trying to protect her comfortable, privileged life.

Otherwise, my research revealed lots of useful information. I discovered that masters typically require slaves to wear collars as a symbol of ownership. This prompted me to make a trip to the sex shop, where several nice collars were offered for a range of reasonable prices. I bought Ellen a black leather collar ringed with shiny steel spikes.